


Harbor Lights

by pyknicGinger



Category: One Piece
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyknicGinger/pseuds/pyknicGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to go swimmin'," the little captain had declared with a firm nod. Nami had choked, Robin faltered, Chopper squeaked, Sanji blinked, and Brooke had slipped from where he had been carrying a tray per the cook's orders. </p><p>His swordsman, however, simply grunted and hauled himself up, crossing his arms, "Alright."</p><p> (A series of Zoro- and Luffy-centric two-shot arcs; nakamaship between a captain and his first mate.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Be or Not to Be, Pt. I

**Author's Note:**

> The first of many, I'm not sure what really prompted this little piece. I just know that I have a lot of ideas floating around while I plan my multi-chapter fic, and figured this would be a nice place to get them all out. I'll have no shots under one thousand words, and most will explore the relationship between Luffy and Zoro in a take-it-as-you-will kind-of way. As a friend once put it, they are my always-BROTP, sometimes-OTP of you squint, but I'm never obvious about it. So, these are going under the label nakamaship.

 "We're comin' up on an island, guys!" Usopp's voice hailed down from the observation deck, somehow reaching every corner of the ship in his excitement. Barely a moment's pause later, two enthusiastic arms stretched from the kitchen door all the way to Sunny's figurehead, snapping back as Luffy whooped and hollered his way to the ship's special perch.

"I see it! We're almost there!" The little King practically bounced in place, and, had be not known his captain better, Zoro might have thought he would go tumbling into the ocean in his enthusiasm. "We're almost  _home_!"

After finally achieving their foremost goal, the Strawhat Pirates had decided they ought to take a break from their adventure—Indeed, Raftel had been at the very end of the New World, and by passing the island they had managed to loop around the whole world, reentering the East Blue from the South. After careful planning on their navigator's part, a route had been set out, and a course laid for a loop around the crew's home islands. That is, those they would be able to visit while so close. The first and farthest so happened to be the Dawn Island belt, and immediately Luffy's eyes had been set on Windmill Village. Though most of what made the place home had left years ago—his brothers, his mentor—they had heard of Garp's post-retirement relocation, and, for the first time, both would be meeting not as a Marine and Pirate, but as kin, through and through.

Dawn Island wasn't big enough to have a proper harbor, but Franky made due with grounding his massive ship alongside one of the land's many rocksides. No one seemed to mind, too happy with the stretchy grin on their captain's face. As they approached the shoreline, it seemed that the entire village had turned up for the event after spotting the Thousand Sunny on the horizon, all lined up to see the Pirate King and his crew. There were murmurs through the crowd as they gathered on deck to help tie off, and Nami felt a small spike of worry that no one seemed to recognize the boy watching them.

Suddenly, however, a booming shout rang from somewhere farther back, out of sight, and the villagers scampered to the side. "Hey, kid!" The massive, grey-haired man barked, "Why've you kept me waitin' so long?" With that, he beamed, breaking out into a laughter that mirrored Luffy's own.

"Gramps!" In an instant, Luffy had launched himself off the ship, tackling his grandfather to the ground.

Garp hit the earth with a grunt, but didn't lose his smile. "'Bout time you got here, kid! I was wonderin' when you'd grace your old man with your presence." Though their visit was unplanned and unexpected, the former Vice Admiral took it all in stride. They had last seen each other in less-than-wonderful circumstances, but it seemed that time had healed all visible wounds. Not wanting to interrupt as the village surged toward their prodigal son, ice broken, the other eight members made their way ashore in a peaceful quiet, absorbing their surroundings and trying to piece together the last pieces of the perpetual puzzle that was Monkey D. Luffy.

Not long after, a feast was declared and a bonfire built to celebrate not only Luffy's return, but his achievements, as well. Most of the villagers had disappeared to lend their hands to the preparations, crew introductions to the masses already made. Franky and Robin found themselves roped into constructing the massive log structure to be burned when the sun fell, extra arms and massive strength much-appreciated for the project. A gang of children had dragged Usopp off for story-telling, the town's part-time physician had whisked Chopper away to teach him more than the basic first-aide he had to rely on, and Brooke had taken to instructing the young man in charge of the piano at Party's Bar while Sanji spoke with the building's chef. Rather quickly, Luffy's home had become their own—or, perhaps, the young man's family had simply adopted in their new members with ease. Any friend of their boy's was a friend of Windmill's, after all.

As the day wore on and the crowd dwindled, Luffy, Zoro, and Nami found themselves yet again in Garp's company as they simply watched the town go about its business. It was peaceful, the calm normalcy of this kind of daily life. Although, no pirate present wished to trade in what they had for all the wealth in the world.

A short, old man had sidled himself up beside the group at some point without their noticing, watching alternately the civilians and companions in silence for a while—that is, until his cane came down with all the force of a Marine on Luffy's sandled foot. One less-than-manly, pained yelp later saw the black-haired boy hopping around with a scowl on his face, ready to hit whoever had hurt him as the other three watched on, amused. Quietly, Zoro tilted his white-hilted sword back into its sheath where he ad been prepared to draw at Luffy's outburst, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the two older men present.

"Oi, oi! What was that for, old man?" Luffy whined as the ancient mayor knocked his cane again, this time across his head.

"That's for goin' so long without so much as a letter back to us. Did y'know how worried we all were when you set sail in that rickety wooden thing after your brother? And without bein' able to swim, no less!" He huffed, scratching at the white mustache hanging limply from his lip. "Thought you were dead 'til we saw that first poster of yours, brat."

With all the maturity he could muster, Luffy stuck his tongue out in Woop Slap's general direction.

Suddenly, the sound of a small child laughing reached their ears from the other side, and Garp couldn't help but chuckle as his grandson's eyes widened. "Makino?" Luffy blinked at the approaching woman and the little redheaded baby in her arms, before he burst out laughing and launched himself toward her. "Makino!"

Before he could take mother and child to the ground, however, a meaty arm shot out from the side and caught him by his neck. Once again, a small click of metal could be heard from Zoro's direction, but Nami just shook her head an stepped up to greet the dark-haired newcomer, completely ignoring her captain with a roll of her eyes and a small chuckle.

"What's the big idea?" Luffy pouted, swinging limply from Dadan's grip. "I was just goin' to say hi!"

"Without greetin' me first, brat?" The massive woman gave a wet scowl as she enveloped her captive in a beat hug—which quickly became a group tackle as more dark-clad men and women began emerging from behind buildings and the surrounding trees. "I ought t'kill you for leavin' us in the dark like that!"

Zoro felt his eyebrows raise at the strange scene—two dozen, gruff-looking characters bawling in one emotional huddle around a laughing boy who suddenly seemed so very small and young. An unexpected hand clapped the swordsman on his back, nearly sending him forward, and Zoro couldn't help but scowl up at the grinning Garp still beside him. "Who'd have thought that kid would grow up to be King of the Pirates?" He laughed.

Zoro scowled, crossing his arms at no one in particular. "I did."

At the gruff reply, Garp blinked, before his smile came back in full force. "'Course y'did." Somehow, the comment seemed genuinely sincere.

Suddenly, something smacked the back of Zoro's leg, "Oi! And what're you supposed to be, then?" It was the old man who has first hit Luffy, now having turned his cane on the swordsman. Both eyed each other warily, while Garp's laughter erupted.

There was a thud from the side, and all three men glanced over just in time to see Luffy slink out from underneath the legs of his emotional attackers, before bouncing upright. "He's Zoro!" He proclaimed with a grin, as if that explained everything. Unfortunately, his outburst had alerted the bandits to his escape, and suddenly the Strawhat captain found himself being chased across the village, a watery Dadan hot on his heels.

"Zoro, eh?"

"Haven't you been payin' attention to the papers, old man?" Garp bellowed, clapping the  _boy_  on the back yet again. "There here's Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, master of that absurd three-sword style Chiken's kid is always tryin' to pull off." Woop Slap grunted, still staring down the taller individual. Zoro stared back, more confused than intimidated by the scrawny mayor.

"Didn't ask  _who_  he was, Garp—I asked  _what_  he was. Clean out your ears." He crossed his arms, letting the rock-hard and dangerous cane hang over one wrinkly wrist. "So, what're you supposed to be?"

"Uh..." How does one answer a question like that?

"You keepin' an eye on our boy?"

"...Yes, sir."

"And makin' sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble?"

"...Yes, sir."

"Are y'there for him when he needs someone to watch his sorry ass?"

"Yes, sir."

"Even when he doesn't know it?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a pause as the old mayor studied him a bit more, and Zoro only blinked lazily back. If this was some sort of test, he'd sure as hell pass it—whether they let him or not.

"So let me ask again, then—what're you supposed to be?"

"Zoro." He didn't particularly care what he was supposed to be, and he was pretty damn positive that his captain didn't care, either, as long as he just  _was_.


	2. To Be or Not to Be, Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request, part two! Zoro learns a bit more about his captain. I hope y'all like it! I hadn't meant to update this soon, but meh. Oh well.

Several hours passed before the crew ended up together again, and in that time nearly everyone on the tiny island had come out from the woodwork to catch a glimpse of the Pirate King. They were a self -sufficient community, relying on their own resources rather than imports from other islands, so foreigners and visitors were few and far between—hence the lack of a proper harbor. What had started out as a small celebration was quickly growing into a festival, although no one seemed to mind very much at the change of plans. Franky and Robin's masterful bonfire stood proudly in the town square, surrounded on either side by long trains of mismatched tables. The feast promised to be a grand one, they could all tell—between the blonde chef that had swooped through each house in search of men and women willing to lend a hand, and the village's own handful of talent, the evening was shaping up to be every bit a cooking competition.

And so, when the sun finally set, the stoves were set aflame and dishes of every kind began pouring from the kitchens in Party's Bar. To make things fair, Sanji had declared no one but the establishment's own single employee allowed to use his or her "home turf", so everyone had been forced to cram in and share the space. If anything, it made the whole ordeal that much more entertaining.

Meanwhile, Brooke and his new apprentice had set up in the center of it all, the Bar's piano somehow having been lugged outside just for the occasion. The kid, though young, certainly had talent, and the pair managed to play everything from jazz to classical to soul on a variety of instruments before the evening came to a close. Every so often, the music would pause as the skeleton helped him through a particularly difficult line or showed him a better way to place his fingers, but the quality entertainment was worth it all. Eventually, old Chiken had swooped her husband up into a raucous, hopping dance that sent Gyoru's friends whopping and laughing at his expense—that is, until their own wives pulled them into the fray. All in all, it was a strange, wonderful, noisy start to the evening—all very fitting for such a peculiar guest.

Luffy, for his part, kept a permanent vigil over the food table, snatching up the first bites of everything to emerge from his childhood hangout. As usual, Zoro was not far away from his captain, though he seemed particularly edgy after the large woman and her possé had chased the boy up into the island's dense forest. He had enough common sense to know that following them would only cause more trouble in the long run—Luffy had grown up here, after all; he likely knew the mountain woods better than anyone else, and it wouldn't do them any good if he went and got himself lost, per usual—but going so long with him out of sight had made him a tad nervous. Luffy always seemed to find trouble, one way or another. And, if he didn't, trouble certainly had a way of finding him.

Suddenly, the barbecued leg of some island bird was waved in his face, and the swordsman blinked out of his thoughts. "Oi, Zoro—You hungry?" Luffy chomped a bite from the meat stick in his other hand, and waved the leg again. "Eat. 'M not sure which one of 'em made it, but it's good!" With a shrug, he accepted the small gift, (Captain's orders, and all that), and Luffy gave a satisfied nod before turning back around. Several bites later, he had to admit that whatever it was  _did_  taste rather nice. He just hoped that the shitty cook hadn't been the one to prepare it.

So focused on his food, Zoro failed to notice the figure come up beside him until another unnecessarily loud laugh (was it a village trait?) sounded in his ear. "You must be somethin' special, if the brat's willin' to share with you." The woman boomed, and Zoro found his hand creeping closer to the hilt of one sword. It was the lady that had run Luffy off earlier, curly orange hair, cigarette smoke, and all.

"Dadan!" Luffy beamed, turning around at the sound of her voice. He bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning around whatever it was he had shoved into his mouth.

"Hey, kid. You goin' to introduce me?" She slapped Zoro on the back, shooting his way a look that sent inexplicable chills down the swordsman's spine. He wasn't intimidated—the woman just seemed  _off_ , for some reason.

Luffy shrugged, "Didn't you hear who he was when we shouted out everyone's names earlier?"

"Ah, that's just his name—I want a proper introduction, like the one the old man got."

There was a pause, before Luffy laughed and swallowed his food. "This is Zoro. He's my swordsman now, but pretty soon his goin' to kick this one guy's ass and be the greatest  _ever_. The end."

Dadan raised an eyebrow, "The end?"

Zoro grunted, not liking the fact that he was being pointedly left out of the conversation. "'M not goin' to stop bein' your swordsman after I beat Hawk Eyes."

At that, Luffy's grin stretched even wider. "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me, anyway."

Dadan eyed the two, before smacking the little King on the back of his head. "Oi, you goin' to tell this kid who I am, then? Introductions go two ways, y'know, brat."

"This is a scary lady," Luffy whined, turning back to Zoro. "Her name's Dadan, and she leads that group of bandits up on Mount Colubo. The end."

"Bandits?" Zoro almost choked. But, then again, his captain  _did_  have the habit of making some rather interesting friends.

"Yep."

"Oi! Don't go makin' me sound like a bad guy or nothin'!" She reached up to knock his noggin once more. "I practically raised you boys after that sorry- ass granddad of yours dumped you here."

"Bandits." Zoro repeated. Well, now a few things made sense, he supposed. Just as Luffy had never pried into their pasts, they had never poked at his. Nearly half the excitement of this latest journey was to find a few more pieces to their crew's puzzle. They had known since Water 7 that Luffy hadn't been raised by his father, much less his grandfather, so the theories that had circulated ranged widely about his childhood. The popular speculation came that his mother had brought him up, but the revelation of Ace's heritage had driven an orphanaged past up in the rank of possibilities. Now, however, he wasn't quite sure what to think.

Then again,  _he_  had spent the most formative years of his life in a dojo. Zoro supposed it was all a matter of perspective from that point.

"Yep!"

"The brat never told you 'bout us?" Dadan asked, and Zoro could only shake his head. She wheeled on her former charge, eyes overly -emotionally watery yet again as she fumed after the suddenly- fleeing boy.

Zoro shifted, getting ready to follow, when a new—thankfully much softer—voice spoke up at his other side. "Don't worry, she won't hurt him. Dadan may look mean, but she has a soft spot when it comes to those boys." Glancing over, the swordsman saw the same young woman from earlier, her now -sleeping baby curled up in her arms. Makino, her name was. He remembered it from Luffy's excited shouts. "Ace's death hit her harder than any of us, I think. She half- near killed Mr. Garp when he came home." There was a pause, as they stood in silence, watching the festivities. Zoro considered her words, and decided to tolerate the obnoxious bandit. For now. "How's Luffy holding up?"

"Eh?"

"After Ace, I mean. We all wished we could be there for him, but the best we could do was send our thoughts. The papers said you folks disbanded..."

"We don't talk about it. Any of it." Zoro replied solemnly, tossing his forgotten food off onto one of the many plates filled with other scraps, before crossing his arms. "The important thing is that we're all together now—and stronger. Strong enough that nothin' like that'll happen again." He nodded, more to himself than the small woman beside him, as she watched him, carefully.

"Alright," she said after a while, humming a bit as she rocked her infant. "Name's Makino, by the way. I run this place back here," she nodded in the direction of Party's Bar. "I was there when our rubber boy ate Shanks's fruit, so I can damn- near say I've seen it all."

So the devil fruit had belonged to the Red -Haired Emporer, then. Glancing down at the pepper- topped baby in her arms, Zoro couldn't help but wonder what else Shanks had left on the island. "Huh." Glancing back up at his captain, still running for his life, he replied, "Zoro. Swordsman."

"Eloquent."

Unsure as to whether or not he'd just been insulted, Zoro kept quiet.

They stood like that for a while, simply watching the joyous chaos unfold around them as the night wore on. Sometime between then and midnight, Luffy had managed to shake his surrogate mother, bounding off to greet everyone else he had missed. Several others had joined in with the two musicians, and before long an entire ensemble was serenading the dancing crowd. Eventually, Sanji emerged from the kitchens, zeroing in immediately on a group of young ladies surveying the food tables. Robin and Franky, like Zoro, seemed content to observe, and Chopper appeared deep in conversation with a scraggly white dog who wore a jacket suspiciously similar to the bandits'. At some point, Luffy had run over and slapped a bottle of sake in the swordsman's hand without a word, before galloping off to swoop Nami into a failed imitation of the waltz, as fireworks—undoubtedly Usopp's doing—erupted overhead.

Eventually, the baby in Makino's arms began squirming, demanding either food or quiet. With a gentle hand on his forearm, she bid her goodbye before turning to leave. "Thank you, Zoro-Swordsman."


	3. A Wolf at the Door, Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Straw Hats decide to have a beach party, and Luffy wants to join the boys in the water. Too bad he can't swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long and still unfinished? I think yes. It's kind of random and not at all what I intended, but we'll just see how this thing plays out. Oh, and have I mentioned? Everything I've written and posted so far has been from my iphone, 'cause I'm grounded. I try to proofread, but autocorrect is a bastard. Let me know if there are any errors you find? As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

They all knew the rules of the sea—it  _was_  a pirating requirement, after all. But, then again, the New World had proved to be anything but an ordinary ocean. Things were different there than in any of the four Compass Seas. That's what made it part of the Grand Line—its strange, unusual, unnecessary oddness. Few travelers made it so far, and even fewer survived to let the world know what they'd seen.

But that's what made it all so exciting.

Although, its mystery added to the challenge of the journey, and not only in terms of unknown enemies. Nami, in particular, felt the stress of this obscurity. As their navigator, it was her job to guide the crew along the safest route possible, weather and water permitting. So, when she had no definite maps or charts or  _anything_  so much as a star-line to go by, things got a bit touchy on the piloting side of the adventure. Nine times out of ten, Luffy's gut led them in the right direction, and each of those nine times she wrote it off to his indescribable willpower and strength and intuition. He had never failed them before, and, with all the training he had received under Rayleigh, he likely never would. Still, however, Nami worried about that one-time-out-of-ten, waiting for a nonexistent slip-up.

The farther they sailed, the stranger the lands became—until, one day, they really  _did_  run out of charts to follow. The islands turned nameless unless inhabited, and those unnamed, lonely lands became the Straw Hats' without question.  _It just isn't right!_  Luffy would say as Nami mapped yet another strange place on their journey.  _How would you feel if no one knew you existed?_

She would respond that it would feel pretty shitty to go unnoticed for a lifetime, and return to business-as-usual until her captain stalked off in innocent frustration. Then, of course, she  _would_  put down her quill and sit and  _think_. Pretty shitty, indeed. She'd never quite considered it like that—rather than discovering something new, they were simply noticing bits and pieces of what had already been there, and showing the world what it had been missing.

Suddenly, her task of plotting their route seemed that much more important.

By the third or fourth go-round of exploring and introducing and naming and mapping and claiming, however, it became clear that the original Straw Hat was still unsatisfied. The revelation came at dinner one night, rather unexpectedly. Nami supposed, later, that she ought to have expected it.

"I think," he said solemnly, staring at each friend in turn as he stood, slamming his palms on the table for emphasis, "I think we've been goin' about this all wrong." There was silence, and his eyes came to rest on the orange-haired mapmaker. Off to the side, Zoro huffed— _he_ , at least, had been aware of the boy's stewing thoughts. Two days before, it had been his turn to hold the night watch, and (as usual) Luffy had come to keep him company. What hadn't been usual, however, was the quiet pensiveness that had followed his captain up from below deck. Something had been brewing, it seemed, and now was the time for...  _whatever_  it was to come off of the kitchen-fire.

"Wrong?" Nami blinked, aware that she was suddenly the center of attention. "What are we doing wrong, exactly?"

There was a pause, before Luffy amended his statement. "Well, not  _wrong_ , really. Just... not all-the-way right." There was another pause as he mulled over his own words.

"Perhaps you would like to enlighten us, then, Mr. Captain?" It was Robin who softly, matter-of-factly, calmly broke the quiet.

"Ah, right." He nodded, "We've made a few birthdays so far, but haven't celebrated any of 'em. I think, from here on out, we ought to. 'S only fair."

"...Birthdays?"

"Birthdays."

And that was that.

[break]

Nine days later, at the next new island, the little Straw Hat captain made good by his words, and demanded they take a day off to celebrate. There were a few raised eyebrows, but no one either complained or questioned—what pirate would turn down a party, after all? Unheard of. Absurd. Scandalous. They had a reputation to uphold, after all; and what was the point of denying themselves a bit of unscheduled fun?

So, a feast was prepared, and the merry-making commenced.

Having arrived on the newly-named Sableblanc (Luffy had declared it Robin's turn to name their most recent stop, and, after some consideration and exploring, she had come up with the rather strange moniker. Their captain had continued to affectionately refer to it as a Mystery Island, but Nami kept the heading in mind for chart purposes) in the evening, the crew spent their first night laughing around a hastily-built beach-bonfire, erupting from an artfully sand-constructed volcano. (Mr. Sniper had quite outdone himself, the archeologist had praised.) Most managed to drag themselves off to bed as the impromptu, drunken celebration wore on, but Zoro had been forced to carry his unconscious captain on-deck sometime after midnight. They couldn't have him rolling into the ocean whilst sleeping, of course.

That  _would_  be rather problematic.

The next morning, however, Luffy rose before the others (with the exception of his swordsman, whom he'd unintentionally aroussed with his half-awake stumbling), and set to work. By the time Sanji, Usopp, and everyone else came shuffling out into the morning sun, captain and first mate were nowhere on deck. Momentary panic shot through several members of the crew upon noticing one or the other rather obvious absence, but once it registered that they had likely disappeared together, their worry quieted down. That is, until an all-too-familiar cackle resounded through the rigging. It was a laugh filled with joy and freedom and mischief—one that promised nothing but trouble.

Nami groaned, peering out over Sunny's rails in an attempt to locate their missing friends.

"What the hell is  _that_?"

[break]

_That_ , it turned out, was a rather elaborately constructed sand-cake, built nearly four feet in height and nine in diameter. It had been made, they could tell, with great care—although none had been able to quite tell what the lopsided thing actually  _was_  until it had been explained.

"Birthdays?" Nami raised her eyebrows at the little captain, not really needing much else to understand the situation in its entirety.

"Birthdays." He beamed, happy to know that at least  _she_ —and perhaps Zoro—understood. That, of course, meant that the games were only just beginning.

It took several hours and a rather hearty breakfast to coax the rest of the crew out onto the sand, and, by the time they had laid out the makings of a good, old-fashioned beach party, the sun had risen nearly halfway in the sky. Nami and Robin, for their parts, had been rather content to simply lie on the shore and bask, one on her back and the latter neatly stomach-oriented with a book in her hands, while Chopper curled himself on a blanket between the two, listening as Robin gently read her story aloud. His fur had never mixed well with sand, and the reindeer was thankful for friends who would kindly tolerate his displacement. Somewhere in the distance, Franky and Usopp had both fancied themselves sandcastle champions, and a competition that could put even the greatest of history's architects and artists into creative depression had erupted between the two. Luffy judged, and, never far away, Zoro lazed under an awkwardly-placed patch of palms. Busy as usual, Sanji soon emerged from his sanctuary, a plate of frozen treats in hand, held at the ready for his ladies—and the other idiots, too.

The whole thing shaped up to be a rather relaxing afternoon; a nice change from the endless New World chaos they had fallen prey to since reuniting.

"What the hell?"

It was Sanji who had spoken, staring out as something in the water. Something large, and something dark, and something coming closer at an unreasonably fast speed. The four other boys barely glanced up—

"What the  _hell_?"

Sanji hardly had time to repeat himself as the massive, all-too-familiar head of a New World Sea King broke through the water's surface, letting out a great roar to the sky. It was too far out to easily be dealt with, and too distanced from the Sunny to be reached from there. Still, the beast seemed a  _bit_  too close for anyone's comfort.

Nami slowly sat upright, blinking behind her sunglasses at the monster with a laziness trademark of someone who had seen far too much strangeness to be intimidated anymore. "Why's that thing so close to shore?" Apparently, that had been the cook's reason for cursing.

"Perhaps there are species of shallow-water Kings here on this side of the Red Line," Robin hummed in reply, returning to her book as their blond-haired companion scampered off to face the beast, intending to draw blood for its disturbing of his ladies' peace. Several shouts—and one strangled, unmistakeable yelp of  _oh-god-no-wait-I-just-remembered-I-have-this-horrible_ —followed by just as many splashes sounded, and, from the corner of her eyes, Nami could soon see four colorful figures wading out into the ocean. Satisfied that the situation would be taken care of, the navigator closed her eyes against the sun, and stretched back out like a cat preparing for its nap.

A few moments later, however, Robin's soothing voice faltered for a moment, just in time with the soft, shuffling footsteps that slowly approached the little group. There was a huff, and a dull thud as someone sat himself down by the trio. It took Nami a moment to realize that, as much as he had wanted to, their little captain had been unable to accompany his friends on their daring mission. It was a bit unnerving, to think that there were some things he simply couldn't protect them from, but the fact that four others were willing to pick up the unintentional slack seemed to comfort her. Even so, that didn't do a thing to mollify the pouting, sullen boy beside her. One could practically feel the disappointment and—was that  _shame_?—radiate from him, and, for a moment, the navigator was tempted to pull him into a hug. But, of course, she would never; the man still had his pride, after all, and something like that would just add insult to injury. Robin's voice picked up again, as though it had never stopped, and Luffy sat quietly while the far-off clank of swords and gunfire reached their ears.

Not to long later, the scent of fresh Sea King meat wafted from the grills Sanji had dragged from his kitchen, and all worries were forgotten at the promise of food. Or so she thought.

Usopp and Franky, by then both thoroughly drenched from their escapade, had agreed that charging back up on land would be pointless in the face of all the sand that would inevitably sick itself into every wrinkle on their bodies, and had opted to stay seaside for the time being. Somehow, the cyborg had managed to transform his legs into a makeshift (and hardly successful) surfboard, while his companion dove for shells and clams and anything else he could find. Robin's voice, ever steady, continued to drift outward as she reached the final chapters of her tale, broken only so often by excited noises from their little reindeer's mouth. The afternoon didn't cease to shine down on Nami—turned around, now, for the sake of sun-kissed symmetry—as Zoro dozed not far away from the captain still at her side, gazing into the blue so very distanced and out of reach.

"I want to go swimmin'."

Nami had choked, Robin faltered, Chopper squeaked, Sanji blinked, and Brooke had slipped from where he had been carrying a tray per the cook's orders.

Because he'd just said something akin to a crown prince admitting suicidal thoughts for the sake of his power. Although,  _perhaps_  the comparison wasn't far off—sans the intention to end his own life, that is. Prince, indeed.

The swordsman, however, simply grunted and hauled himself up, crossing his arms, "Alright."

And that was that.

[break]

"This is a bad idea. A really,  _really_  bad idea." Usopp chattered, flitting back and forth through the tiny crowd of nine. "A really, really,  _really_  bad idea."

Nami's brow furrowed. "I'll have to agree with him on this one, Luffy. You've had some crazy plans, but this?"

"C'mon, Straw Hat—You can't even take a bath without havin' someone there t'make sure you don't drown." It was, apparently, now Franky's turn to talk him out of it, but Luffy wouldn't budge.

"That's why I'll have Zoro with me!" He grinned, and there was a pause as they all considered the unintentional weight that statement held. Here, their beloved boy was prepared to willingly walk to his death, convinced that he'd turn out alright because one man was accompanying him. He hadn't said  _you guys_ or named someone else, and everyone—most especially the other Hammers—suddenly felt something between  _awe_  and _jealousy_  toward their swordsman. The green-haired man didn't make a single move that the comment had affected him. "It's not like I'm goin' in alone. You and Usopp and Sanji and everyone looked like they were havin' so much fun. I just want to try it for a bit."

"But the minute things start going bad," Sanji conceded roughly, "we're pulling you out."

"Yep!" Somehow, the rubber captain didn't seem fazed at all.

After far too much more time (in Luffy's opinion) spent convincing his friends to let him go, the Straw Hat finally—finally—put his foot down about the whole thing, declaring it a Captain's Order and daring anyone to defy the authority. In all the time they'd been together, the crew could count on two hands (for those who had been there the longest) or less the number of times he'd pulled that string, which effectively shut everyone up for a solid few minutes while they thought. Well, if he was so adamant about it, the least they could do was make him as safe as possible, like he was a little kid that needed constant watching and parenting and protecting.

Nami's orange, inflatable ring was dragged out of storage, and Franky had it filled up eith air in a matter of moments. Every one of the boys who could swim was prepped for the water—swimsuits, snorkels, goggles, and all; and, soon, Luffy reemerged from the ship, bouncing with a carefree excitement that had the other eight pirates exhaling their worry in one collective breath. Perhaps they were being paranoid—Luffy would be  _fine_. Luffy was  _always_  fine. The tension in the air fled like it had been cut by the white sword at Zoro's hip, and, suddenly, things were back to normal. To distract their youngest member, Robin's story began where it had been left off, and Nami slowly retied her hair as she made to lie back down again. Brooke was left in charge of the stoves under strict orders not to mess with a single thing unless Armegeddon began (in which case he was to save the food so that Luffy would have enough strength to fight off the apocalypse), and the other three began wading out slowly into the ocean.

"You ready, Captain?" Zoro huffed, tying a bit of rope from Luffy's float to his pant-loop for safekeeping.

The enthusiastic bounce and fist to the sky only served to emphasize his loud, "Bring it on!" in reply. However, he didn't run forward toward the sea like his swordsman had expected, choosing instead to vibrate in place and beam at everything around him—except the water, the first mate noted absently. With that, Zoro started after the others, captain in tow; but, as soon as Luffy made it to the water's edge, the boy stopped, staring out at his green-haired friend with unnaturally  _serious_  eyes. Eternally tolerant, Zoro said nothing. "I want to get out deep." There was an unspoken question wrapped up with an unheard explanation in that statement that the first mate immediately understood, whether he realized it or not.

The moment Luffy's toes hit the water, he'd start fading. Three feet in, and the rubber boy would be nearly comatose. He wouldn't make it farther than waist-deep before he'd start drowning with his head above water, yet he wanted to go farther. "Alright." Again, that simple word seemed to mean so much. Without asking, Zoro waded back ashore to stand over his captain, and, in one smooth motion, he lifted the boy onto his shoulders. It was an awkward movement with the inflatable, but, after a bit of shifting, he had readjusted his cargo enough so that this crazy idea just  _might_  work.

One foot, two feet, four feet, and then he was treading water, careful to keep Luffy's feet on his shoulders or his head or wherever, so long as he stayed only as wet as minimal splashing warrented. Within moments, thanks to the swordsman's unnatural and ungodly upper-body strength, the pair had made it as far out as the others, and Luffy slowly began to slip himself down off his ride's back. "Thanks, Zor..." The moment he made it into the water, that all-too-familiar, glassy gaze began clouding his eyes, but, for some reason, the little captain's grin stretched even wider. "Mmph." His lips wouldn't open to form words and the only motion he could manage was a light flick at the ocean with his fingertips, but he was _happy_. Happy, happy,  _happy_.

Zoro let his hands leave the float and began treading water on his own, before turning his attention back toward the three silent pairs of eyes watching them. "See?" He grunted, and that was all they needed to melt their worried looks into relieved grins and go about their relatively ordinary business. Franky resumed surfing, and Usopp dove back down again—with Sanji, this time—while Zoro, as usual, kept watch.

Because nothing (not even a little water) was going to hurt his captain while he was there.

And that was that.


	4. A Wolf at the Door, Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his adventure in the ocean, Luffy is in desperate need of a bath. Looks like a job for his first mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter, everyone! Here's the second part to my second two-shot arc. I hope you guys like it! It gave me so many feels to write. I've been trying to catch up with the manga, and wasn't intending to actually post anything—but then wham! That scene from ch. 678. Aurgh. And the scene from ch. 675 had my Sanji/Usopp brofeels exploding, too. But I digress. As usual, I love you all and would really appreciate feedback on how I'm doing!

The pair floated along in silence, Zoro watching Franky and Sanji and Usopp and everyone else, but not quite  _seeing_  them—it was his job to keep an eye on the crew when their captain wasn't thinking straight, after all—as he kept his attention focused first and foremost on the lazy boy floating along beside him. Luffy's eyes slowly flicked around, lethargically drinking in every bit of the whole experience while filled with a foggy mixture of excitement and—( _was that fear?_ )—something the swordsman saw so infrequently in his captain's gaze that he couldn't quite place what the emotion really was. A loopy, drunken smile slipped halfhazardly across Luffy's lips as he continued to flick at the ocean with his fingertips, and Zoro almost smiled at the sight. Almost.

A calm Luffy was a rare spectacle, reserved for battles and those extraordinarily solemn situations in life that no one really liked to be part of. A quiet Luffy, in comparison, was even more uncommon. So, taking the time while he could, Zoro simply observed, soaking up the little things about the Straw Hat that he was always moving too fast to let anyone see. The sun-tanned lines on his perpetually-happy face, the cowlick poking through the messy hair above his left temple, the new scars he always managed to collect wherever they went—whether they fought in a battle or not. Everything that made up the boy who  _had_  become a man, and the man who  _would_  become the Pirate King.

Soon, however, Luffy's fingers slowed to a shuffle-splashing, and then stilled altogether. Not long after, his eyes wandered closed—but not before drifting to lock with Zoro's, the  _I'm going I' going I'm going_ message clear!—and whatever jellied muscles he'd been using to hold himself up on the inflatable slackened. Almost immediately, he slid downward, head submerging with an unnerving  _plop!_  But Zoro was ready; just as the sea finally clawed up to claim his captain, the swordsman had pinned both hands under the Hammer's arms, hauling him back up into the air while Sanji resurfaced at his side.

"Everything alright?" The cook asked, eyeing Luffy's limp body worriedly. Zoro sighed, wrapping his charge's limbs across his own shoulders—it would be easier to swim him ashore this way, he had decided, rather than hauling the stupid inner-tube.

"Yeah, I think we're done for today. Take the damn, floaty, would you?" With his one free hand—the one not keeping his captain's unresponsive arms held tight around his neck—Zoro snapped the rope connecting his bottoms to the plastic thing, before setting off. He didn't bother waiting for an answer, but his demand hadn't been laced with anything more violent than the man's usual gruffness. Sanji would comply; the shitty chef was loyal, despite being a pain in the ass most of the time. Now wasn't the time to fight.

It only took a few moments for Zoro to touch the seafloor in fordable water, and, as he approached the shoreline on foot, he pulled Luffy's own legs out of the water. Immediately, the shallow breathing in his ear hitched slightly, which brought a frown to the swordsman's face just long enough for it to settle back down into a normal, healthy rhythm. Nami glanced up as they reached the sand, peering at the pair—most pointedly Luffy—with a slightly worried glance over her sunglasses, before she decided that everything was alright. That meat-head was with him, after all.

Finally turf-bound, the swordsman shifted again, preparing to set his captain on the beach until the boy regained a bit of his strength, when a raspy, content voice hummed quietly in his ear, "Thanks, Zoro..." before drifting off into light snores.

They'd been in the water for less than twenty minutes, but that was enough.

[break]

"'M against this."

"I know you are."

"It's stupid and unnecessary."

"I agree—but you haven't got a choice."

"'M the captain; I can do whatever I want."

"You really want t'challange the Sea Witch? Captain or not, she's not goin' to let you walk around onboard like that."

"But it's just  _sand_ , Zoro." Luffy was whining now, staring up at his first mate with wide, overly-dramatic, pleading eyes. "She's never made me do it  _before_. It's not  _fair_."

"Yeah, well," he huffed, crossing his arms and resolving  _not_  to succumb. Nami would have his hide—and quite possibly his first born, so far in debt as he was—if he didn't put up with her demand. "You've never rolled around on a beach  _wet_  before. It's a whole new level of messy, that. And everyone else always has t'take a shower when they get back on the Sunny, so think of it as part of the experience... or somethin'."

"But I  _hate_  baths!" Realizing his friend wasn't going to budge on the issue, Luffy plopped himself back down on the shore, legs crossed and face thoroughly scrunched in a full-blown pout. They were the only two left on land, everyone else having already climbed aboard to clean up before dinner. Sanji had been first, needing a head start to the showers so that he could begin steaming up what he and Usopp had caught, and the girls hadn't been too far behind after the sun's disappearance behind a patch of particularly large clouds. One by one, the others had followed, until only the pair remained. Only moments before, Nami had called down her ultimatum in a flash of inspiration, just as the they were preparing to board.

 _Make sure that idiot gets himself clean before he goes and tracks sand everywhere! I want to be able to walk ondeck barefoot without worry for the next week—and I'm sure Franky would appreciate it if he kept scratches to the indoor flooring at a minimum_. Zoro had opened his mouth to protest and Luffy had wailed, but all they'd gotten in return was a glare and a rather fierce  _Just shut up and do it!_

The core problem remained, however: water was water, regardless of what form it took. The other Devil Fruit users had come up with their own solutions to the cleanliness problem—Chopper had Usopp to bathe him when absolutely necessary, and Robin made due with sponge-baths and Nami's help in regards to her hair—but Luffy remained adamant about keeping his aqua exposure to a minimum. The crew had nearly mutinied early on, back when Sanji had just come aboard, however; after a particularly long, unpleasant spell without  _some_  kind of hygiene, Nami had put her foot down and demanded the rubber boy keep a schedule or... something. ( _Her trees wilted every time he came near, dammit!_ ) Even so, the ordeal hadn't become any less unpleasant—and, after several close calls, arguments, and debt-threatenings, Zoro had been permanently assigned to Bath Duty. They had tried shifts in the beginning, but the swordsman seemed to be the only one Luffy would listen to. All other routes had lead to an inevitable, soapy disaster.

"C'mon—the sooner we get you scrubbed, the sooner you can eat."

Luffy seemed torn at the obvious bribe, but squinted his eyes skeptically, regardless of the temptation. "You have t'clean, too."

"You first, Captain."

"Captain says  _you_  first."

"But  _you're_  just goin' to get me all sandy again when it's your turn." Zoro resited the uncharacteristic urge to roll his eye as Luffy just huffed, unable to think of a suitable comeback.

In the end, Zoro simply  _carried_  the boy to the men's quarters's bathroom, although Luffy didn't put up as much as fuss as he could have. He knew he had lost, fair and square. An angry Nami always seemed to know best, after all—and she did have a point. Contrary to popular belief, he was smart enough to know when to cut his losses and give in.

That didn't mean he couldn't sulk about the whole thing, though—and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity to make this as difficult as he could, even if it  _was_  Zoro.

And so, Luffy sat, glaring daggers at his first mate's back as he twisted the faucet on the tub (it had long ago been decided that showers were a bad idea, considering the fact that Hammers couldn't  _stand_  under water) and tested the temperature.

"Alright," came the green-haired man's gruff voice, "you know the drill. Strip, and let's get this over with." Not having many other options (aside from the horribly-obvious  _run away_ plan), Luffy did as he was told, and crossed over to stand by the basin with a heavy scowl and grumbled complaints.

"'M  _still_  against this."

"I  _still_  know."

"Good."

And with that, Zoro gripped his forearms as the little captain stepped in, immediately sagging at the water's pull.

The whole ordeal passed quickly and efficiently from there, Zoro scrubbing his friend's hair and rinsing off his body with an odd, practiced ease. As usual, he marveled quietly at the scar on his captain's chest—the great, gruesome thing that they'd never quite gotten the story behind, but Zoro _knew_  meant as much as his own, maybe more (because a mark over one's heart  _always_  holds importance)—that testified to Luffy's strength. A lesser man would have been killed by a wound so severe, he was sure. Working quickly, the swordsman, unable to dunk his Hammer's head under because the boy wouldn't know to hold his breath (they'd learned  _that_  early on), filled a small cup and emptied over Luffy's head, matting the mop of black down over his eyes. Combined with his droopy, half-lidded gaze, it seemed for a moment like he was some kind of half-conscious baby animal that Zoro suddenly—unnecessarily—felt the need to protect. More than usual. Sometimes the swordsman found it easy to forget that Luffy was two years younger than him, what with how much the his captain had aged in their time apart.

The world was an unpleasant, unfair place.

Gently, showing a care seen only when dealing with his blades or his captain, Zoro ruffled his hair and drenched him once again, before unstopping the drain and lifting Luffy out onto the rug. With one hand, he reached over for one of the overly-fluffy towels Sanji had managed to steal from the girls' bathroom weeks before, and bundled his dripping—now shivering—friend (brother?) up in the fabric. To bring back some of the feeling and warm him up to reality, the swordsman rubbed Luffy's sopping hair through the cloth and made sure he was swaddled up tight. Then, he propped him up against the tub and and crossed his own legs, sitting down in front of his captain to wait. Once Luffy was awake enough to dress himself, he would leave (or kick the boy out so  _he_  could shower), but not a moment before he was absolutely certain he'd be alright.

As usual, it took a few minutes, but soon the Straw Hat was speeding off to clothe himself and search for food—preferably not (though likely) at the same time.

Once his captain was out of earshot, Zoro let himself chuckle. His own front had already been thoroughly soaked when dealing with the teen, but he hadn't thought about taking his shirt off beforehand. Perhaps Robin's odd saying about hindsight had some merit, he thought as be began running the faucet.

Just as he was preparing to strip off his bottoms and step under the water, however, a head poked itself back through the door. "Zoro!"

"Eh?" He blinked, certain enough time had passed for Luffy to have fully engaged himself in fighting the shitty cook for first bites.

"I forgot!"

His hat? No, Zoro noted—the string was still around his neck. "You forgot?"

"Here!" Something small was tossed toward the swordsman's face, and, with a toothy grin, Luffy had disappeared once more, laughter following him out through the halls. Zoro's reflexes had caught whatever the object was while he'd been busy blinking after his captain. Looking down, he couldn't help but snort.

In his hand was a little shell, chipped in some places and a bit dull—but a rather striking green, despite the wear and tear.


	5. Weighty Ghost, Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While docking at a strange, strict new island, Luffy and Zoro are left to guard the ship. The little captain, however, doesn't take we'll to boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a bit slow, but I promise part II will pick up the plot a little bit more. And possibly be much longer.

"I would like to point out," Usopp declared, crossing his arms defiantly at no one in particular, "that this is a  _terrible_  idea." As expected, the sniper's statement went largely ignored by the scrambling crew flitting past him, each member rushing to prepare their ship for docking.

Franky, ever the peacekeeper (in his own way), took a moment to place one large, semi-comforting hand on his friend's head and shoot a casual, "It'll be fine, bro—Stop worryin', for once!"

"Yeah, Usopp!" Sanji called from his position up in the rigging. "This is the first time in weeks we've come across a relatively  _populated_ , mildly _peaceful_  island." At that, the cook leaped down on deck, landing just in front of the pair. "Don't tell me the New World's starting to get to you," he grinned, taking a drag from the cigarette clenched between his teeth. "You're not getting  _paranoid_ , right?"

Nami's snort could be heard all the way from  _Sunny's_  helm. "Hasn't he  _always_  been paranoid?" It was a good-natured poke, and everyone chuckled a bit at the boy's expense while his cheeks puffed indignantly.

"Oi, oi! I'm  _just sayin'_  that we ought to be careful, y'know?" Usopp sputtered, fighting an embarrassed flush. ( _Great warriors didn't blush, dammit_!) "The place has enough people t'warrent Navy attention, yeah? So we can't let our guard down. _I'll_  be fine—" Sanji felt his eyes roll as he and Franky returned to their task of furling the main sail, "—but I'm just worried about _you all_."

Robin shot a small smile his way as she strode past, "Your concern is quite touching, Mr. Sniper, but I must agree with the others. Do not trouble yourself for our sakes; we can take care of ourselves well enough." Reluctantly, Usopp nodded, aighing once before rushing back to work.

After weeks of bouncing from one uninhibited, beast-filled island to the next, the Straw Hat crew was—quite frankly—exhausted. With the exception of their captain (and his shitty adventure fetish, Sanji had said one long, frustrated, alcohol-filled evening), every member was more than ready for some kind of break. They  _deserved_  it. They  _needed_  it. As time had continued to roll forward without any sign of civilized haven, however, tensions between crewmates had begun to thicken even to a point where their little captain had noticed the edge. Nami's proclamation that they were close to land had been met with as many groans and skeptic looks as hopeful smiles, and soon she and Robin were cracking the books to find out what they could. Based on their position under the stars (because there was no other easy way to tell their exact location on the chaotic, ever-changing seas), the girls had been able to discern that they were two days out from the Blas Island chain, a reasonably inhabited, moderately wealthy chain of four land masses connected by bridges. Exports varied between the four, ranging from agriculture to mining to manufacturing, but all dealt with the production of spices.

Needless to say, their chef was more than thrilled at the news.

Even so, Usopp couldn't help but feel a bit of skepticism at their sudden good luck. Things had not gone their way  _once_  since they'd left Paradise for the second half of the Grand Line, so why should the wind start changing now? Nami had always warned them never to trust a sky that cleared too quickly, but even the navigator seemed to be ignoring her own advice.

By the time their ship finally reached port, the Straw Hat crew seemed nearly ready to dance in their excitement. Usopp, after a tad more coaxing (and several threats), seemed to calm down bit-by-bit as the  _Sunny_  approached docking point, and soon was scrambling around with the rest of his friends as they prepared for their landing. The main island's port, though small, was all but filled to the brim with ships of every kind—passenger, cargo, military... pirate—much to the crew's surprise, and, at the sight of several unfamiliar (yet very distinctly  _marked_ ) flags, their little captain's laugh could be heard from across the deck. All were welcome here, it seemed.

Zoro grunted, sharing a look with Usopp, who,in turn, gulped. Suspicious,  _indeed_ —it was a level of tolerance unheard of anywhere: raiders and Marines sharing slips, side-by-side. Almost immediately, the green-haired man was reminded of Whiskey Peak, the Baroque Works hideout, and the unpleasant events that had transpired there. Not only had the crew been tricked into contentment and ambushed, but his captain had made it clear that, even after all they had been through, he did not fully trust his swordsman. The first mate could only hope the internal issue had been resolved since then, but a tiny, shameful part of his heart  _doubted_.

He resisted the urge to growl out loud at himself for following down that path of thought, and felt an instant need to train, train,  _train_. How  _dare_  he even consider the possibility! He didn't deserve to be called the Straw Hat's right hand, regardless of his strength! In his frustration, he pulled the line in his hands too hard, and Franky's cursed warnings could be heard from below deck. Suddenly, however, a hand was waved in his face.

"Oi, Zoro!" Luffy called from directly in front of him, and the swordsman blinked down at his captain with an unintentional scowl. What the expression was met with, however, were eyes full of shining excitement overlaid across a half-shielded  _concern_. "You feelin' alright?" The boy tilted his hat back a bit and squinted upward against the sun, trying to get a clearer look at his friend's face.

Immediately, Zoro felt even guiltier, but pushed it aside. Given even the slightest hint that one of his crew was unhappy, Luffy would tear the world apart to punch the cause in its face; it would crush him if he thought that he was a reason—which he wasn't! And never would be.

Ever.

Realizing that he still hadn't answered (and that Luffy was slowly inching closer, staring, searching for answers in his one open eye), Zoro grunted an affirmative, "Aye, captain," and shot a smirk his way. Satisfied, the boy stepped back and nodded, before bouncing off in the direction he had come. (Had that last look over his shoulder been concern? No—surely not.)

"Oi! _Oi_! Get your damn ship away from my docks, y'shitty pirate bastards!"

Zoro could almost hear the _I told you so_  swelling up in Usopp's throat.

Nami, ever a pacifist, was the first to (screech a) reply, "What the  _hell_  are you yelling about? Aren't  _those_ ," she gestured toward the other blackflag-flying vessels from her place at the helm, "pirates', too?"

"This is a place of  _peace_ , dammit!" The old man—no farther aged than his late sixties, clad in a white outfit—hollered back, throwing his arms out. "There's no violence in the preparation of food; it is an  _art_! They came not as pillagers, but as  _connaisuers_  and  _cooks_!"

"And who's to say  _they_  haven't?" A new voice called from someways down the dock as a young man—its source—approached. "Really, Dad; have you even asked? They might've come here for just the same reasons. Don't go pissing powerful people off just 'cause the  _government_  says they're evil." The older stranger opened his mouth to retort, but his son cut him off. "Who's in charge here?"

The crew, thoroughly distracted by the argument, had managed to gather along  _Sunny's_  dock-facing side to see the source of all the shouting, and the boy now had a full view of all nine Straw Hat members. Luffy, at the question, hopped up on the railing in a crouch, and pushed his hat back up. "That'd be me!" He grinned, laughing a bit. "Monkey D. Luffy! I'm goin' to be King of the Pirates!"

The dockhand blinked—and then blinked again, recognition finally crossing his face as he took in the crew a second time. Their posters, at least two years old (and in some cases even farther aged), didn't  _quite_  match these new faces, but the identities were clearly there—most especially in the case of their captain. Immediately, he paled, and began floundering apologies for his father. "We don't want any trouble here, y'know? The Islands try to stay neutral so long as everyone gets along, and—"

As he continued babbling, Luffy tilted his head to the side, watching the pair. Then, suddenly, he spoke up, cutting the stranger off in the middle of a sentence he clearly hadn't been listening to. "So we just need a really great cook to get in, right?"

"Oi, oi—you make it sound like a club, or somethin'," Usopp grumbled off to the side, earning a few snickers and giggles from several other members of the crew. All in good fun, of course.

The boy blinked, glancing back and forth between the long-nosed man who had spoken and his captain. "Ah, y-yes? The Blas Islands pride themselves on being a paradise for chefs of the New World, where quality foods and supplies are hard to come by..." He trailed off nervously as Luffy laughed again.

"Well, Sanji's the best in the  _whole_  world, so that counts, right?"

"Uh..."

Stepping forward, the blonde in question puffed a bit on his cigarette before speaking, quietly preening at his captain's praise. "Worked at the _Baratie_  my whole life before joining up with this idiot," he shrugged. "Does that work for you?"

The older man's eyebrows shot up, "From the East Blue? Y'know old Red Leg, then?" Sanji nodded, and suddenly the dock manager began to laugh, relaxing. "Next time you see the bastard, tell him Mickey says 'Drop dead'," he grinned. "How's he doing?"

Before Sanji could answer, Franky spoke up, "As super as sharin' stories is, we're goin' to have to tie the  _Sunny_  down soon. The current's pullin' us out again."

Luffy nodded, turning back to the pair, "So, are we set?"

The man chuckled, and held up three fingers, "No stealin'," he lowered one, "No killin', no wastin' food," the other two folded, and he kept his fist raised. "Can I have your word as the captain on behalf of your crew?"

Placing on hand on his hat and using the other to mirror his pose, the boy grinned, "Yep!"

Within the next hour, the  _Thousand Sunny_  had been properly secured and the two men invited aboard. After some coaxing, they accepted, and the older of the two immediately pounced Sanji for information on his ancient friend. Apparently, they had met during Zeff's year on the Grand Line, back when they'd been a Marine and Pirate supposedly hunting for one another. However, while docked on the same island, the two chefs had managed to meet during a competition without realizing who other was until the winner—the old pirate, of course—had been declared. It was a complicated friendship, to be sure, but stranger things had happened on Paradise's unpredictable seas.

The younger dockhand began explaining both the Island Chain's layout and workings to Robin and anyone else who would listen (after he got over the shock of seeing a  _talking skeleton_ , of course), and soon the Straw Hats had a rough idea of how this particular stay would go. Three out if the four land masses, it seemed, were off-limits to "civilians", as non-cooks were called, while the main Island, Siucra Isle, held the docks and a sets of shops for the crews to purchase what they needed without exploring too far. Chefs, on the other hand, were granted full System-wide access after a brief verification test, and made available to the finest ingredients (fresh and stored) the New World had to offer. The crew agreed to respect that, and immediately Luffy began pushing Sanji off to get himself certified ( _How can you pass up a chance to get the_ best _meat in the_ whole _Grand Line, Sanji?_ ) while the others drew lots to see who would be going ashore. However, because the place was a stop that centered around food, it was unanimously agreed that Luffy would be among those staying behind to watch the ship, regardless of his numbers.

Zoro volunteered to stay behind with his captain, which made things easier on that issue, as well.

Guards decided, Sanji and the old man wandered off in one direction while the rest followed his son into town. Chopper and Robin bade the captain and his first mate farewell, while Usopp, Franky, and Brooke waved goodbye before jumping ashore. Nami's only notice of departure was a heavy warning not to do anything  _stupid enough_  to get them kicked off the Islands. Luffy nodded solemnly, but, for some reason (call it a woman's intuition), she didn't believe him.

[break]

"Zoro, I'm  _bored_."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" The swordsman cracked his eye open to peer at his whining captain, now rolling around on  _Sunny's_ grass for emphasis.

"...I don't  _know_."

"Try sleeping."

"I did, but it didn't  _work_. I'm  _still_  bored."

"Well, try again," Zoro grunted, closing his eye, "at least it'll pass the time."

"...Fine." He could practically hear the pout in Luffy's voice, but chose not to give in. He was supposed to be meditating, dammit—which wasn't something one could do while multitasking. Still, he could understand his captain's feelings. It was never fun to be left behind on adventure days—and most especially hard for the little rubber boy. Zoro wished he could do more to help, but he was at both a loss of what to do and in the middle of an intense concentration exercise as part of his own self-imposed punishment for earlier.

However, now the unintentional cause of his distress was demanding his attention. Perhaps his thinking  _was_  a bit backwards.

Backtracking, Zoro prepared to think of something he could do to ease his friend's boredom—Training? Aquarium-watching? Harbor fishing? He wasn't as talented in the ideals of boredom-quenching as Usopp or Chopper, but something would have to be done before his wonderful, danger-magnet of a captain got himself into trouble.

Cracking his eye back open once more, Zoro glanced to where Luffy had been flopped on deck—and only then did he realize how disturbingly  _quiet_ it had become while he had been thinking. Sitting up straighter, he glanced around a second time, hoping to whatever deity existed that he was hallucinating. Or still sleeping. Or  _something_.

Because Luffy was  _gone_.

 _Great_.

Jumping up in a flash, the swordsman immediately began a race through the ship, only to confirm that his captain had, in fact, left. (Or been taken, but that was unlikely given that he had been sitting  _right there_  the entire time.) For a moment, he hesitated at the rail, glancing back at the _Sunny_  as he prepared to jump onto the docks. He knew Franky would kill him for leaving the ship unattended (and Nami would beat him for doing the same to whatever loot she had stashed in the storage hold), but this was  _important_. Likely, they'd be even more angry at Luffy for running off, so as long as he managed to track the boy down before anyone returned, they would both be spared.

Hopefully.


	6. Weighty Ghost, Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Straw Hats unintentionally dock on the same island as an ex-Whitebeard ship, and a few unexpected, familiar faces meet. Zoro must watch his captain's back, even if Luffy doesn't think he needs the help. [A continuation of Part I]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't really decide how I feel about this chapter. As promised, it's a bit long, but I don't know if it makes much sense. And I'm pretty sure Luffy is a little OOC? I have a hard time writing him, which is why (as you may have noticed) I usually stick with things from Zoro's point of view. Oh, well. Anyway, I hope, at least, the title brakes a bit more sense after this! (I'm so happy that some of y'all actually pay attention to the titles! I want to hug you.) I'll stop rambling, now. As always, feedback is always greatly appreciated!

Zoro's insistence that he take a nap translated, in Luffy's mind, to one thing: _be quiet_. He knew that the swordsman—unlike everyone else on the ship—would never outright  _ask_  him to tone down his volume, so the fact that he was insisting on something similar made the suggestion all the more important in the little captain's eyes. Whether or not his crew would believe it, Monkey D. Luffy  _could_  stop talking at any point if he ever decided to do so; he simply never did. But, watching his (best) friend sit in his usual spot by Sunny's railing, he realized that this was one of those times.

There was something different about Zoro—there had been, ever since the crew had started to dock. He seemed... tense? And the way the swordsman held himself even now had an air of unease. His back was too straight, his fingers forced into an unnatural relaxed position, his neck muscles pulled too taut, and the three swords at his hip were backwards, their blades pointed toward the railing rather than the man's front, as they always were. After taking a moment to notice everything so very off about his first mate, Luffy opened his mouth to ask yet again if everything was alright. A rather sharp exhale caught his attention and effectively shut him up, however, though he doubted the swordsman knew that he had even done it.

With that, Luffy  _did_  try to sleep. Really. He  _tried_. But the rubberman had never coped well with boredom—stillness, he could handle, so long as he had something to watch or listen to—and his constantly-moving, hyperactive brain scrambled to find a solution to the problem.

He had been left to guard the ship with Zoro, but  _Zoro_  was strong on his own.

He wasn't allowed to cross out of the first island's border, and, if he went into town, he'd likely meet up with one of his crew. But no one had said the  _docks_  were off limits.

Besides, he would be careful—and he wouldn't be away from the  _Sunny_  for  _that_  long. He could take care of himself, and he'd be back before Zoro even realized he had gone missing. He just needed to stretch (Luffy resisted the silly chuckle that bubbled up in his throat at his own small joke) his legs a bit, and keep his mind occupied.

Plan in mind, the little captain crept toward the railing as silently as possible, with a stealth that not many people had ever seen him use (he had learned it up on Mount Colubo, during his days of hunting for food and game; if a predator was too loud, its prey would run away and that hunter would go hungry). Slowly, slowly,  _slowly_  he made his way across the grass, before slipping through the wooden bars and sliding down onto the docks. Careful to grip his sandals with his toes (so they wouldn't slap on the planks), he took off, glancing back just long enough to make sure his green-haired companion hadn't moved.

For just a few moments, he would be able to wander, before having to go back. It wouldn't do to have Zoro worrying about him, after all.

As it turned out, however, there really wasn't much to see aside from the docked ships moored in each slip along the way. Between both the pirate and Marine ships, he noticed no mark that he recognized—which, he supposed, was a  _good_  thing. Eventually, Luffy passed the last vessel and made his way toward the end of the pier. There, he found himself staring out at  _everything_. The ships gliding through the harbor, the sea lapping against their hulls, the gulls and clouds floating overhead. Without realizing it, the little captain sat himself down on the very, very,  _very_  edge, dangling so far out into the perfect image of  _freedom_  that his toes nearly brushed against the water below. The waves reached up, wet fingers straining to grab the boy and take him down, but the wooden planks held him up firm as he simply  _stared_.

Footsteps thundered up behind him, paired with the familiar clink of metal, and Luffy knew that Zoro had come to collect him. Lying back, he tilted his head far enough to see the green figure approaching, and prepared an apology that he really did mean. Because Zoro was Zoro, and there were some things that he just  _understood_ —like his need to get away. He hoped his friend wouldn't be too angry with him.

"Straw Hat?" A new voice sounded close ( _too close_ —how had he not  _noticed_  someone else?) to his left side, and the little captain jumped, springing to his feet so quickly he nearly lost his balance on the edge. He heard Zoro falter and stumble, likely rushing forward as the boy tipped backward, but suddenly— _suddenly_ —a firm hand gripped his forearm and yanked him back steady. On instinct, Luffy tore his arm from the stranger's grip, and whirled to face whoever it was.

The man was tall, with a lazy-yet-serious expression criss-crossing his long face. Strangely-animated, golden hair stuck up over his eyes, and, underneath his rather colorful ensemble, the hints of some kind of dark chest tattoo could be seen. Luffy blinked—he seemed familiar, somehow. But, then again, they had met so many people on their journey, and the likelihood of meeting up with one of their encounters really wasn't that small. Blinking, Luffy shot an apologetic smile the newcomer's way, and readjusted his hat. "Yeah, thanks."

Surprisingly, the man relaxed, worry-lines fading some as he began to laugh. "Glad you're alright." There was a pause, and, glancing to the side, Luffy saw that Zoro was almost to where the pair now stood. "It's been a while, but... But I'm happy t'see you back on the seas." The man's small smile was so genuine that the boy suddenly felt like he was forgetting something very— _much too_ —important.

It unnerved him to the point where he almost forgot to grin back.

"Ah, yeah." He stopped, tilting his head to the side, "We've met before, right?"

Rather than being offended, the man simply kept smiling, and he shook his head good-naturedly. "There was a lot goin' on," in a flash, his hands were at the lapels of his half-closed jacket, and, just as the swordsman sidled up next to his captain, the man pulled them apart to reveal a shirtless,  _marked_  chest.

 _Gunfire, screams, and the clash of steel resonated through the harbor's smoke-choked air as he ran, lungs burning in time with the flames licking at his heels. Just a little farther—just a little_ farther _! He was nearly there, kicking and punching his way through what seemed like an endless wall of white-shirted devils. Then._ Then _! He was on his knees, and there was blood—_ so much blood _—everywhere. Too warm, too wet liquid dripping, dripping,_ dripping _over his hands and his chest and his legs and—no, no,_ no _. Time stopped and started and stopped and started, and the whole damn world seemed to freeze. Until a voice—strong and commanding and hoarse from screaming—towered over the_ chaos _._

 _"That boy's life is what remains of Ace's will! We_ will _protect him in place of Ace!"_

_Strong arms gripped him too hard in places that hurt too much, and the whole of everything went black._

Had Luffy been a weaker man, he would have choked. Had he been more sensitive man, he would have burst into tears. Had he been  _any other man_ , the Straw Hat would have broken down. But he wasn't, and he hadn't trained for two years—abandoned his family for  _two whole years_ —just to be beaten by one of the universe's shitty sucker punches. Not today.

He could feel Zoro watching him, not quite sure what was going on but understanding that this was  _big_  and  _important_  all the same—instead Luffy just focused in on that goddamn  _Whitebeard Division Commander tattoo_  and  _grinned_. "Bird-guy!"

"Marco—the name's Marco," he laughed in return, holding out a hand, "I don't know if we were ever formally introduced." Luffy shook his head, and shrugged. There were too many things he didn't get to do that day, and, quite frankly, meeting another random pirate hadn't been high on his list at the time. Now, however, he regretted it, somehow quietly understanding how  _important_  this man was. But, then again, he regretted a lot of things. "I can't believe we're meetin' up like this. I guess the Grand Line is full of surprises, yeah?"

"Yeah," Luffy replied, stretching his lips a little too tight. He had always hated small talk. It was  _boring_.

"Vista ought to be around here, somewhere—and I think Jozu is below deck," Marco gestured to the massive ship behind him, where he must have come from. It wore a mark that Luffy had never seen before, and, absently, he realized that change meant the old Emperor's crew had split up. It wasn't surprising, really, but the Straw Hat couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought. The new names, now in the right context, brought up fuzzy faces in the captain's memory, and he nodded.

"You're all together?"

"They stuck around when things started fallin' apart," he shrugged, "and I couldn't very well leave them on their own. The Divisions disbanded with the Alliance, so we took who was willin' and set off. What about you? I heard the stories, but you can only trust the Navy's new reports so much, y'know?"

Zoro shifted, still out of the loop, and Luffy suddenly realized that he was having a  _calm conversation_  with someone—something he'd been forced into learning as he rebuilt himself for two years, but still a piece of the  _New Luffy_  his crew had yet to see. Forced serenity. "I found what I was lookin' for."

"Good."

They laughed, but it sounded empty.

[break]

The group called themselves the Bluefire Pirates, and, as former First Division Commander, Marco had been elected captain of the motley crew. After declining an invitation onto their ship and extending one of his own, Luffy and Zoro retreated back to the Sunny at the Phoenix's assurance that he would be along with the others as soon as they returned from town. When the pair made it back to their ship, the swordsman only absently noted that the others hadn't returned yet. Part of him wondered if he ought to be relieved, but something about the whole situation had Zoro watching his captain closer than his own steps.

He had recognized the mark—anyone who hadn't been living under a rock over the past two years would. But only a few people knew what that mark  _really_  meant. Or, at least, the only meaning it held that  _mattered_.

Luffy seemed...  _fine_  as they boarded their ship, grinning and bouncing and babbling about how he  _couldn't wait_  to introduce everyone. But Zoro _knew_. Even with only one eye, he could  _see_  better than any fool who had two. His captain was different—he had  _changed_ —and Zoro had known it from the moment they met on Saobondy. He had suspected that things would never be the same after he'd scoured through every newspaper article that arrived to the Muggy Kingdom, reading paragraph after paragraph and report after report on the Great War. The worst words came from the writers who weren't directly endorsed by the government, because they were so heartbreakingly  _true_  in comparison to the others.

But  _speculating_  and  _realizing_  are two very different things.

The scar on his captain's chest gouged deeper than the skin—it had seared right through to his  _heart_  (and that was something not even a rubberman could  _really_  bounce back from).

It wasn't long before the Straw Hats began trickling back down the docks, one group at a time. Franky came first, hauling more supplies than Zoro speculated they had room for in the storage hold (but, knowing the cyborg, he'd just  _make_  more room if there wasn't enough), followed by Nami and the young dockhand, now laden with all of her purchased things. Luffy had, much to their surprise, simply grinned at the pair's arrival and swooped the bags from his hands, before declaring that they would be having guests. He ran off, laughing like a madman, while Nami blinked (and then chased him like a vengeful harpy for stealing her  _legally purchased_  loot). The young man, unsure of what to do, stood awkwardly ondeck under Zoro's steely gaze for a moment, before getting the message to  _leave_. Robin and Chopper returned next, and, after greeting the green-haired guard, retreated to add newly-bought books to their respective libraries.

Usopp slipped back onto the ship on his own, and immediately rushed off to show the shipwright what he'd found while exploring the town, and Brooke came barrelling down the docks shortly thereafter, fleeing and flailing away from three barking dogs. In his haste to climb aboard, the skeleton nearly lost his balance, and would have fallen into the water below had Zoro not been there to grab his arm. A glare from the swordsman shut the beasts up for a moment, but, rather than leaving, they simply sat down and growled back, wagging their tails and practically stalking their runaway treat. With a nervous laugh, their musician retreated below deck, leaving his friend to keep the animals from leaping toward the railing.

Then, suddenly, three furry heads jerked around, pupils dilating at  _something_  behind Zoro for an instant before they scrambled back the way they'd come, yelping like frightened puppies. Turning around, the swordsman saw his captain standing, relaxed, with one hand on his hat and a grin on his face.

Zoro said nothing.

Sanji was the last to arrive, pulling a cart filled with packages of produce, seasoning, and  _everything_  in between. The old man walked with him to the dock's ledge, but, after seeing that his son was no longer in the pirates' company, decided he ought to go track the boy down. They bid their farewells, and the blonde cook called Franky to help him haul the load into the kitchen so that he could prepare dinner. Luffy, who had swooped down from the main sail frame where he'd been sitting (too high up and  _far away_  for Zoro's liking, but the only reason his captain would pick such a perch would be for privacy; he respected that, and contented himself with watching over the boy from his usual spot on the grass) upon hearing his chef's voice, immediately began pestering Sanji about what he'd found.

The sun had already begun to sink low on the horizon by the time Marco found his way to the  _Thousand Sunny_ , several larger men trailing behind him. Zoro watched them pause and survey the ship, taking in its size and excellent craftsmanship—as well as the oddities that fit the Straw Hat Pirates so  _well_ —but didn't move to greet them even as the other captain yelled out to his own.

"Oi, Straw Ha—" before he could finish the call, there was a loud  _crash_  from inside the kitchen, followed by a series of hollered curses. The crew faltered, and, after another massive  _bang_ , something (some _one_ ) flew out the door and hit the mast.

Sanji's leg, still raised, could be seen silhouetted against the interior lights, before the cook disappeared back inside. "Keep your shitty hands off the food and  _wait_ , you dumbass!" He shouted (good-naturedly), and slammed the door behind him.

Luffy, who had already picked himself up from the grassy deck, just  _laughed_ , and turned to his vigilant swordsman, "Dinner's almost ready, I think." Zoro nodded, fixing his captain with a smirk that the boy couldn't see in the dark, and grunted in acknowledgement.

"Straw Hat?" Marco called a second time, and, immediately, Luffy bounded over to the railing.

"Hey, Bird-guy! And Gem-guy! And Sword-guy! And everyone else!" He balanced both feet on the ship's rail, greeting the group, "Why are you still standin' out  _there_?"

It only took a few minutes for the other crew to board, and, at the commotion, the remaining Straw Hats emerged from their various hideouts on the ship. One by one, introductions were made, but no one asked just  _how_  the two captains had come across one another. Zoro was the only one who had seen the tattoo, now that Marco's shirt had been rewrapped, and the others simply assumed that Luffy had made yet  _another_  friend. Sanji was the only one who didn't come to mingle, only sticking his head out of the kitchen door for a moment to silently assess how much more food he ought to prepare, before doing so without question.

After sighting the cook, however, Marco—who had been standing off to the side as the crews exchanged greetings (Zoro, in particular, sought out Vista, while Jozu and Franky seemed deep in conversation)—began laugh quietly to himself. In moments, Luffy was in front of him, grinning up at the older man as if to ask  _What's so funny?_  and  _Tell me—I like jokes._

"You're so much like your brother," Marco shook his head, smiling at the boy. "Always gettin' into trouble,  _even_  with your own crew. I  _swear_ —eatin' with you is goin' to be an adventure on its own, I'm sure." Luffy could only laugh and shrug, before going into great detail how  _amazing_  his cook was, and how  _wonderful_  his food always tasted. ( _Of course the meal would be exciting_ , he assured the other man, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  _Sanji cooked it!_ )

Straw Hat was glad for the  _chaos_  and  _laughter_  and  _noise_ , because no one had heard Marco's statement.

When it finally came time for dinner to be served, plates were passed out buffet style (Sanji hadn't had time to prepare individual helpings on such short notice), and everyone migrated back and forth between the deck and stove, loading up and eating and drinking, and then looping back to start the whole process over. Sometime during the evening, Usopp and the Bluefire's gunman—a heavy-set, large man named Chaps—had roused up a heated debate over long-distance ammunition effectiveness, and Zoro had challenged Vista to a duel after hearing some of his tales. The party progressed heartily, in that special way pirate gatherings seemed to have. They tousled and fought, laughed and drank, cursed and sang.

Through it all, Luffy flitted back and forth, talking and grinning and stealing a little something from everyone's plate that he could. His own crew, used to the antics, guarded well in the beginning, but let him sneak bites as they, themselves, grew full. All eight Straw Hats piled a little extra food on their plates—more than they would ever eat—just for their captain, without even thinking. It had become a kind of loving routine.

It was Brooke who noticed the other crew, however, protecting their own  _particularly_  well, right from the meal's beginning. Casually, between songs, he joked about how prepared they were for a Straw Hat dinner, and most of the Bluefires just  _laughed_  right along with their new friends—until one of the deckhands shouted something about being used to it, thanks to the boy's brother.

While the guests laughed harder, remembering good times, all nine hosts fell silent, faltering for a moment.

Brooke hit thirteen consecutive off-notes in a row before giving up altogether and  _asking_. "Excuse me?"

The other pirate, however, didn't pick up on the change in atmosphere, and continued on with a grin, "Yeah, I was part of the Third Division, m'self, but Inter-Division banquets were always interestin' thanks to Ace. Kept us on our toes, he did."

From across the deck, Chaps nodded, starting up from there—"I was Second Division," he chuckled, "And, to this day, I can't tell you where that boy put away  _so much_  food."

Zoro stepped wrong, and Vista slashed close enough to graze his cheek. Realizing he no longer had his opponent's full attention, the dark-haired swordsman called off their match, and, rather than fight it, Zoro simply nodded absently and sheathed his blades.

"What about  _you_ , Captain?" Another man called, gesturing widely with his sake mug. "You were—what—his best friend, or somethin'? 'Side from ol' Thatch, of course." Immediately, all eyes turned toward Marco, who shrugged noncommittally.

"What can I say? Fire Fist was a bottomless pit, kind of like  _this_  kid." A rousing hollar went up around the ship as every visiting pirate cheered for the Straw Hat captain. Each proper  _Sunny_ -dweller, however, stood frozen, watching their own dark-haired rubberman. There was a pause, before Luffy tilted his head up and  _smiled_.

He didn't grin, he didn't smirk, he  _smiled_. Plainly, simply,  _unnaturally_.

That, in itself, was a painful thing to see, and, once again, Zoro took a frozen moment to reflect on how much his captain had  _changed_.

"Never could beat him in anythin'," Luffy  _laughed_ , taking a hearty bite from whatever he had in his hand, " _even_  eatin' contests." Once again, the crowd whooped and chuckled, and even the Straw Hats had to wonder what Ace had been like at meals if he inhaled even  _more_  than their captain on a regular basis.

"You'll catch up to him, soon enough," Marco clapped him on the back, grinning down at the boy, and Zoro thought, for a moment ( _just a moment because it couldn't possibly have actually happened_ ), that he saw his captain  _flinch_.

One day, he  _would_  be stronger than his brother, because his brother was no longer  _improving_. The unreachable goal of surpassing the unsurpassable would  _never again_  stare back at him from the horizon; suddenly, what had been a round ocean would just  _stop_ , ending like a flat world and making the edge of the earth a  _tangible_ ,  _obtainable_  thing.

And, still, Luffy  _smiled_.

For a moment, Zoro wondered if two years had really been enough to soothe the ache—but those two years had been spent  _alone_ , in the  _darkness_ and  _danger_. While physical enemies were easy for his captain to handle, invisible forces had never been something he could defeat quickly, if at _all_. When Nami had gotten sick all those years ago, he'd wanted to smash the disease 'til it surrendered, but he  _hadn't been able to_. Instead, he had taken the next best thing—he'd focused on what  _could_  kick the sicknesses ass, and blown through everything along the way. Snow, ice, monsters, mountains. Stupid monarchs. All to get to their little doctor and his guardian.

But  _loneliness_ , by its very nature, was an innate  _nothingness_  that any person—no matter how strong— _could not_  fight. While Luffy had been with Rayleigh for spurts, Zoro  _knew_  that there had been days, weeks, months where his captain had been utterly  _alone_. When the beasts had stopped fighting him, what else had Luffy had to work against?

Himself?

_Don't falter! That is the burden of a captain!_

Suddenly, Zoro realized, that what had seemed so backbreaking on Water 7 had only grown. And grown. And  _grown_. Luffy had carried his dream from the day he had decided it—walked with it, trained with it,  _lived_  with it—and, as he met each of them in turn, he had taken on their own hopes, as well. Along the way, they'd come across others with goals that his captain had respected, and he gathered those up, too, strapping them onto his  _own_  back.

And then— _and then_ —he had lifted  _Ace's_.

Suddenly, Zoro could see just how  _weighty_  the man's ghost was.

The swordsman had thought and fought to become strong enough ( _stronger and stronger and stronger still_!), so that, as First Mate, he could carry just a  _fraction_  of what the boy bore.

Now, he realized, he  _would never_ — _could never_ —have  _that much_  power.

And he wanted to weep, because his captain couldn't—not any longer.

_It's so heavy!_

_You_ must _bear it!_

Never again would he falter.


	7. Open Nights, pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet at the Greyhound station, one looking for a destination and the other just along for the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a solid decade since I've posted anything? Gah, I'm so sorry! And this chapter's kind of lame. I wanted to try my hand at a modern-day AU, as well as a present-tense style. So I did both? Heh. Things pick up in pt. II, I promise. Anyway, as usual, reviews are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

 

The walk is short-nearly six blocks in total, but not quite. He doesn't hesitate, he doesn't drag his feet. The time for that sort of thing has passed ages ago, left behind with the memories and forgotten smiles in the apartment he's finally gotten the courage to walk away from. There is nothing left for him there, but, somehow, he can't bring himself to care much. His house hasn't been  _home_  for a while, really. Too long.

Dark eyes drink in the night-shrouded city streets around him, committing every last scrape of dirt and brick to memory. He won't be back, but he's walked these sidewalks enough times to know that  _they_  will be the things he'll miss. The damp alleys and dim corner shops; the scraggly, evenly-spaced trees and their little patches of cement-covered dirt; the cold evenings and the sticky, heavy, automobile-exhaust fogs of the days. He was born here, he's lived here. But when he leaves, he will not look back.

The last bus runs just before midnight, and he knows without worry that he'll get there on time. Pace even and steady, he passes under the protective curves of towering buildings that scrape the blackened sky, blocking out the stars and moon. Yellow, flickering streetlights lead his way, beckoning him on with their warm glows. He follows in silence, listening for the last time to the sounds of a city that never truly goes quiet.

He finally spots the station seven minutes before the bus's scheduled arrival, but he can see from a distance that the hulking thing is already idling at its tiny booth. It must have only just pulled up, though, because several weary-looking travelers are only now just collecting their things and shuffling up from the wire benches nearby. He adjusts the strap of his backpack, but doesn't speed up, bypassing the ticket stand and heading straight for the bus's hissing doors and faded interior glow.

"Ticket?" The driver raises an eyebrow, and he nods in return and pulls out the crumpled scrap of paper he'd printed at the local library three days before. After a quick check, the driver lets him pass, before turning to the next customer stepping up into the cabin.

He only has one bag, and the vehicle is mostly empty. The route he's picked is an odd one, out of the way from places most travelers would normally go. He doesn't plan on riding the whole way, either-where he's headed, there aren't any stops. Before the worn-out, middle-aged woman behind next in line can start fussing at him to keep moving, he makes his way to the back of the bus, claiming a set of two empty seats by setting his backpack on the aisle chair and sliding in next to the window. The cabin lights glare off the glass against the dark night sky, and he can't see anything outside-only a muted reflection of the interior.

He doesn't mind, though. He's already said his goodbyes to the city.

Without much of a thought, his hands dive deep into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, and he slides on the cheap earbuds he'd purchased not too long ago, flicking the shuffle switch of his old music player. The sounds drown out whatever buzzing is left in his mind, and he rests his head against the cool windowpane, closing his eyes. He doesn't feel the bus start up and begin to pull away, or see the dimming of the cabin lights for travel-he has already fallen asleep.

* * *

He wakes when the bus hits a rut on the highway, rocking the chasse enough to knock one of the tiny speakers out of his ear. He's slumped over to his other side, cheek resting on the palm of one hand and leaning on an elbow that crushes his backpack in the other seat. He drags his fingers across his face, thankful that he hasn't been drooling, and lazily blinks at the world around him. It's light, now-but still dim enough to show that it can't be too late in the morning. There are more passengers than when he, himself, loaded on, and he realizes he must have slept through at least a few stops. Plenty of seats are still empty, though, and the sparse crowd seems to have given him a wide berth-no one has bothered to sit anywhere near him.

Good.

He rotates his neck, scowling a bit at how stiff it's become over the course of the night, and stretches his back before settling back down and replacing his earphones. After a few minutes of staring out the window, another regulation-green Interstate sign flashes by-they've already made it into Ohio, two states away from the bustling Manhattan Island where they started the trip. Progress is certainly faster than he had expected, but he doesn't mind. The quicker the trip passes, the sooner he'll reach his new home.

There's something nostalgic about the whole thing-reminiscent of every grade-school history class he's ever taken. Heading West to find freedom, just like all other American settlers before him have done. Why be different when you can follow the fool-proof plan set down by the ages? Sure, not every family in a canvas-covered wagon survived life on the trail, but these are modern days. He would be fine-he  _is_  fine-and it isn't as though he'll be spending months on the road. It'll be three days, tops.

A thousand miles is quite the distance to cover, after all.

Eventually, the rocky, evergreen landscape begins to blur together, and his legs get restless as the sun rises higher in the grey sky. There isn't much to look out at, and soon he drifts off again, lulled through his speakers by the rough automobile engine and the low hum of two people chattering near the front of the bus.

* * *

The next time he comes to, the vehicle is pulling to a stop outside a small, wooden building on the outskirts of a small tourist town. The station is larger than the one he, himself, boarded on—it's a full-on rest stop-and, as he rubs his eyes and pulls the speakers from his ears, he decides he ought to stretch his legs. The driver announces that they'll need some time to refuel, and that she'll be switching with another Greyhound employee so she can get some rest. Everyone has an hour to do what they'd like before setting off again.

He stands, shuffling out into the aisle and waiting a moment for the feeling to slide back into his feet, before he grabs the strap of his backpack and follows the other passengers out into the cool morning air. Everything outside is quiet, and still a little foggy. They're in the mountains, now-miles and miles away from any big city in either direction. It's a welcome change of atmosphere.

Inside the building, a few early-bird travelers shuffle around between the small supply shops and sparse fast-food restaurants, ordering small breakfasts or restocking on entertainment. There's a line outside the men's restroom, so he decides to sit and wait at one of the tables, picking a prime spot in the back and plugging his charger into one of the community wall outlets. His battery had run low while he'd been sleeping, and he doesn't know when the next long stop will be-it always pays to be safe, rather than sorry. And being left without entertainment on an endless bus ride isn't exactly his idea of fun.

The hour passes quickly-at some point, he gets up and orders a large black coffee from one of the stands, and eventually makes it to the men's room. He doesn't bother packing his things, though. The place is small, and there aren't many people around to take his belongings. He doesn't have much worth stealing, anyway. At one point, he checks his messages-three missed calls from his apartment, but no voicemails. One call from the same man, this time from his cell phone, and a handful text messages from two other people.

Apparently his absence has been noticed.

He wonders idly what all the fuss is about-everyone knew he was leaving. He'd made it plain as day, even going so far as to formally resign from the part-time job he'd held since the year before his high school graduation. Goodbyes had been sparse, though. Really, there weren't many people he could say farewell too. A few coworkers he didn't have much more than a casual acquaintance with and his stoic stepfather made up the odd circle he'd left behind, and, while he'd received a few curious looks and questioning glances, no one had commented much.

Although, he hadn't actually come out and  _said_  he'd be leaving the state.

He glances at the texts-one is a formal message from his former boss letting him know that he can keep his old uniform, and the other is an alert from local weather station letting him know that temperatures back in New York will be dropping well below freezing tonight.

Or perhaps it hasn't been noticed.

He doesn't bother calling his stepfather back.

Soon, he's boarding the bus again, flashing his ticket along with the other previous passengers as they load back up before the new travelers pile on. He slips back into his seat, replacing the backpack and settling in for another few hours of blissful travel oblivion. Everyone spreads out to where they were, four new additions catching the vibe and keeping their distance, as well. No one seems to be much in the mood for socializing, and, for that, he's grateful. He's never been the best at small talk. Or playing nice with others.

The new driver introduces herself, and lets them know that the next stop is a little farther than the previous few-they won't be stopping again for several hours. No one makes any comment either way on the issue, and she starts up the engine as the doors hiss shut.

Just as the breaks are squeaking off, however, a sudden, frantic pounding sounds on the middle side-door, and the vehicle jolts to a stop again. Startled a bit-the glass is on his side, and the sounds reverberate through the window next to him-he leans forward in time to catch a shock of messy black hair and wide, brown eyes, just as the doors creak back open and the body disappears.

It reappears inside the cabin in the form of a scrawny boy, panting heavily from what must have been a panicked sprint to the bus. The new driver, still fresh and full of patience, waves him forward, and he flashes his ticket with a grin and a sloppy, rushed apology. She waves him off, telling him he's lucky to have made it, and gestures toward the expanse of empty chairs at his choosing.

The boy smiles, pulling at the one shoulder strap of his own bag, and flits to the back of the bus, closer to him than any of the others dared venture so far on the trip. They catch eyes for a moment, and he glares at the boy-but expression doesn't dim even the slightest.

In fact, he takes it as some kind of odd invitation, and, before he realizes what's happening, the kid plops down in the seat directly in front of him.

Great.

As the bus wheels shriek back to life and their trip starts up again, he prays to every god he doesn't believe in that the boy won't try to be social. The last thing he wants is to be stuck for hours with a loudmouthed chatterbox (the boy seems the type, if his grin is any indication)-it would turn a halfway-tolerable trip into some kind of hellish nightmare.

When a few tense minutes pass without any sort of interruption, however, he begins to relax-maybe he'd been wrong. Turning back toward the window, he clicks the volume on his music player up a few notches and settles back in, ready to wait out the next leg of the journey.

Ten seconds later, however, his peace is shattered.

Something pokes his knee, and, instinctually, he jerks forward, accidently kicking the seat in front of him and knocking on speaker out of his ear in the process. He hears a strangled giggle from in front of him, and a few other passengers glance back as brown eyes poke up over the headrest he had just hit. Smile lines crinkle the edges of those chocolate dots, though-the boy isn't fazed.

He scowls again.

"What the hell?" he hisses, and the kid giggles.

"You looked so serious," comes the quiet reply, muffled by the cheap bus-seat upholstery.

"Shut up and turn around-mind your own damn business. I didn't ask to be bothered."

There's a pause as the boy watches him, unfazed but not adding anything else. He stares back.

Eventually, there's an even softer response, tone both lighthearted and chastising-like a puppy being scolded without any real venom. "You can't travel when you're angry, you know. That just sucks the fun out of the whole thing."

"I ain't angry," he growls back.

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah-huh."

"Nuh-u- _Shut up_." He catches himself before he gets into a stupid argument with an even more annoying brat, and shoves the other earbud back in as he turns his whole body toward the window. A few minutes pass before something prods his knee, but he ignores it. Then it comes again. And again. And again and again and again and aga-" _Fucking stop_ ," he hisses, and the bus driver glares at him through the rear-view mirror.

There's a pause, before the head pokes back up over the seat and those big eyes stare back at him. "Your hair's cool."

"What?"

"Your hair. It's green. That's  _cool_ ," the kid says with a roll of his eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He doesn't know what to respond, so he just waits. And when the boy realizes that he isn't going to say anything, he takes the silence as an a-okay to continue. "My name's Luffy!" There's a giggle against the seat, and the kid beams. "Nice to meet you." When he doesn't reply, though, Luffy's expression falls a bit, and a little furrow makes its way between his eyebrows. "You're supposed to tell me your name now, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

"'Cause that's the nice thing to do."

"That's bullshit."

The driver glares again, and he goes quiet. The boy doesn't seem to notice, though, and picks right back up again after the pause.

"Will you tell me if I guess?"

"No." He doubts the boy will be able to figure it out, anyway. It's a weird name, just like the rest of him.

"I'm going to try, anyway."

"Whatever."

"Allen." There's no response, so he keeps going. "Alfred. Andy. Aiden. Albert. Benjamin. Billy. Bennett. Bernard. Bobby. Bailey. Bria-"

"Bailey's a girl name, dumbass."

"Oh, so you  _were_  listening," the boy grins.

Cheeky bastard.

"If you go through the whole alphabet, you're goin' to be sittin' there for a damn long time," he retorts, then realizes his mistake.

"So it's near the end, then? I'll just go backwards," Luffy giggles, before pausing. "...I can't think of any names that start with Z."

"Zachary."

"No, that's not it."

"Oh, really?"

"You wouldn't have said it if that was your name."

He snorts-the kid is good. "Fair enough."

They lapse into another silence, brown eyes still scrutinizing him over the edge of the headrest, lost in thought.

"Zeke... Zain... Zahara."

"Isn't that a desert?"

"Shush-I'm thinking." He can't help but roll his eyes at the boy's response, but doesn't say anything else as he continues. "Zebediah... Zelda-"

"That's definitely a girl's name, too."

" _Shush._  Zephyr... Zero." He keeps his face stoic and skeptical, but apparently Luffy doesn't buy it. "Zero? No, no. Something similar. Zero, Zera, Zaro, Zoro-" He feels his mouth twitch, and the kid's eyes light up. "Zoro! Wow, you've even got a cool name, too!"

Zoro blinks, as Luffy beams over the headrest and giggles. Again.

"Sure, whatever." He doesn't look away, though.

Maybe sitting for a few hours with company isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen.


	8. Open Nights - pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet at the Greyhound station, one looking for a destination and the other just along for the journey.

 

It's late in the afternoon when the mountains even out and the Interstate Exits every few miles begin growing—more hotels, more shops, more real, sit-down restaurants appear with each passed. Everything seems crowded, from the streets to the parking lots, and they know they're getting close to their next big stop. For some, it will be their final destination on the trip, but, for others, the place is just another exciting place to rest.

They've been travelling nearly ten hours when they finally take their last break before pulling into the new city. The driver announces that they'll be entering Chicago within the next two hours, and a quiet chorus of relieved, exhausted cheers wave through the group they've managed to accumulate since departing New York. Luffy whoops the loudest—Zoro rolls his eyes. As the bus pulls into the large station on the outskirts of the sprawling, windy metropolis, however, he lets himself take a deep breath. This is it—this is the start of his new life.

He stands, stretching as the scrawny black-haired kid bounces on his knees in the seat in front of him, excited to finally stretch his legs. Zoro wonders idly if he'll bolt the minute the doors open; if he'll sprint through the sidewalks without even bothering to get his luggage.

After their first conversation had gone off in what Luffy must have taken as a success, the boy barely stopped chattering for the better part of a few hours, hardly pausing a moment between stories and topics to let Zoro get a word in edgewise. Eventually, he had stopped listening and slipped his earbuds back in, simply content to watch his animated expressions shift with each word. Luffy didn't seem to mind whether or not he was paying attention, and Zoro suspected that he had just needed an excuse to keep himself entertained with the sound of his own voice. No one else complained, but he could see a few of the other passengers eyeing them from time to time, either listing to one of the kid's tales or silently wishing he would shut up.

Luffy remained unfazed, and, after several hours of what could only have been mindless rambling, had dozed off with his chin still on the headrest.

Not wanting to stare at the kid's sleeping face for however long he stayed unconscious, Zoro had pushed him over to the side, flopping the boy down on his own backpack out of view. He would be more comfortable in that position, anyway. Not that he cared.

Now, as Zoro steps into the cool, Illinois air, however, he realizes he has no idea whether the boy will be staying or not. Most of the other travelers will be ending their journey here, but the country still goes on for two thousand miles to the west. It's not as though he and Luffy will ever see each other again, he decides—so, really, it doesn't matter.

Pushing the thoughts from his head, he plants his feet firmly on the ground and stares in either direction down the sidewalk, basking in the familiar shade offered my towering buildings. The city is so much like his own, but still so different in its own way. A welcome change.

This is the beginning—a clean slate. He has come with no goal other than a fresh start, and no plan other than to settle in to the best of his ability. Over the years, he had saved up quite a sum of money, but it won't last forever—and, at some point, he'll have to find himself a new apartment. But the best place to begin is forward, so he puts one foot in front of the other and steps, not looking back.

 

[break]

 

He wanders for a while, drinking in the sights and sounds of the bustling Northern civilization as the sky darkens. Eventually, he circles back around to the outer ring of the place, and hones in on a cheap motel with more than its fare share of vacant rooms. He checks in, unsurprised when the glassy-eyed receptionist doesn't comment on his name or request to pay in cash. She's used to not asking questions—it's not her business to care, so long as she gets paid.

Sleeping situation handled, Zoro ventures back out onto the streets. The sun has gone down, now, but the neon lights and flickering lamps brighten the world to the point where night is just another five-letter word, not a time. His stomach growls, and he shuffles along toward the dimmer alleys and backstreets in search of food. He can't afford most of the places near the main street, and a meal is a meal, no matter where it comes from.

After some time, a hole-in-the-wall corner deli beckons him inside with the promise of freshly-cut meat and low prices, so he slips inside and orders the cheapest thing on the menu, thankful that the portions are big and the atmosphere is quiet. It's not an empty place, by any means, but everyone minds their own business well enough. At the counter, he picks up a copy of the local newspaper—the issue is already a few days old, but he doesn't mind. Job offers are never known to fill up quickly, no matter the state of the national economy, and he flips idly to the classifieds section as he munches.

He's nearly finished with his meal when a shout sounds from outside, and he glances up toward the glass storefront. This is the city-noise resounds aplenty through the backstreets—but after a day of peace and quiet on the road, he's not quite used to the racket just yet. A few other patrons look up for a moment, but most don't pay any mind to the sound. It's probably nothing.

A moment later, Zoro is up and throwing his trash away, paper in hand and ready to make his way back to the motel for the evening. Three steps onto the sidewalk, however, he realizes what the commotion was—and still is—about. Around the front of the little deli is a covered city bus stop. It's one of those plastic-domed things with advertisement posters on either side and a less-than-comfortable bench for the unlucky passengers who have to wait a while for their ride. And, sitting cross-legged _atop_ the whole thing, is a boy, gazing up through the lens of a camera at the twinkling lights of skyscraper windows against the night sky. There are two men below, trying to get him to come down before they call the police or he gets himself hurt, but he isn't paying attention to either of them.

It takes Zoro a moment to recognize the faded T-shirt in the yellow-tinted glow of Chicago's nightlife, but, when he does, he can't help the incredulous " _Luffy?_ " that falls from his lips when he does. At his name, the boy finally turns around, blinking down at the sparse crowd of curious onlookers and passerby scurrying around his perch. When he sees Zoro, however, he grins, raising one hand in a frantic wave.

"Hey!" He calls, beaming, and one of the men turns to Zoro with a glare.

"You know this kid?"

"...No, not really." Because he doesn't—the boy is just some kid he met on a bus. Nothing special.

"Whatever. Just get him down, 'fore the cops show up for him distrurbin' public property or somethin'. The last thing we need 'round here are police." Zoro doesn't comment, but shrugs noncommittally and turns back to the boy on the bus stop.

Luffy, however, is already scrambling to the edge, camera strap around his neck and backpack in one hand. He drops ten feet to the ground with ease, landing in a crouch before bounding over to Zoro's side, smile still in place. Zoro raises an eyebrow at him, and gives a shrug in greeting. "...Do I want to know?" He doesn't, not really—but he has the feeling he's going to be told, anyway.

"I was taking some pictures!"

"No shit." Zoro doesn't ask for an explanation, already anticipating the inevitable ramble.

"—And the best places to get shots like that are from high up, you know? But it's hard to get up into the buildings, so you just kind of have to make due. The higher up you are, the less glare you get from the street lamps and stuff. I like sitting on the lights best, but the stop was right _there_ and it was _perfect_  and—"

Zoro shoves both hands in his pockets, and starts back in the direction of his motel, not caring much if the kid follows but aware that he will. When they stop outside the building entrance and Luffy still hasn't quieted, however, Zoro isn't quite sure what to do.

"Well, this is my stop," he interrupts gruffly, crossing his arms. Luffy blinks again, pausing mid-sentence with a hum.

"I should probably find a place to sleep, too, I guess," He nods, slipping his camera back into his backpack. There's a pause, and the boy looks in either direction back down the sidewalk. It occurs to Zoro, then, that this kid might be just as alone as he, but neither says anything on the matter. If he doesn't ask for help, Zoro won't give it. With another smile, Luffy shrugs. "Maybe I'll see you around or something!" And, without waiting for an answer, he turns around and wanders off into the night, a skip in his step as he tries to hop over cracks in the old, crumbling sidewalk.

 

[break]

 

The next morning, Zoro wakes up before the sun, jerked out of sleep by a few questionable noises right up against the wall of the room next door. He doesn't have the energy to walk over and confront the tenant, so he settles for pounding a few times on the wallpaper above his headboard. Nothing happens, so he slumps back down and burrows into the scratchy motel sheets in some vain attempt to muffle the sounds.

Eventually, he dozes off again, but not for long, and soon his cell phone alarm is buzzing on the bedside table, screaming that it's time to wake up and do something productive with the day. Zoro disagrees, but crawls out of bed, anyway.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he splashes some water on his face, thinking of his next move. It's a new morning in a new city—the first official day of the rest of his life. Might as well get into some good habits while the slate's still clean, and getting to know the city while it's still under the sun isn't such a bad idea, either. So, he grabs the same ratty sneakers he's worn for the past three days and slips on a pair of loose shorts—one of the three pairs he'd managed to stuff into his backpack before leaving New York—and stretches for a bit, before jogging down to the lobby and out the door.

It's raining.

Perhaps, he thinks, shorts weren't the best idea. He makes due, though, and tugs the hood of his sweatshirt snug over his head, glad he doesn't have anything worth worrying about in the sure case that his pack is soaked straight through. The list from yesterday's paper is crumpled and torn in his pocket, and as he splashes quickly through puddles gathered in the uneven sidewalk concrete he wonders if he should have picked a destination before setting out into a place where a single glance could ruin the thin scrap of (what might be, but probably isn't) his hope for continued survival.

Instead of taking that risk, he resigns himself to walking for a while until he comes to someplace relatively dry. Here, the awnings outside passing shop doors are old, riddled with holes and not good for much more than scattered shade on bright days. Still unused to the land's lay, he wanders, weaving between buildings and across streets still busy despite the roaring downpour. There is no joy here, he thinks. At least not today. Rushing passerby push past him, those not in coats holding dark umbrellas and folders and the occasional briefcase over their heads in a futile effort to keep their faces dry. The surrounding structures, large enough to block out the sun, do nothing to stop the storm.

Eventually, he comes across what may have at one time been a park, but with the passage of time and a lack of consistent care has become an overgrown mess, a forgotten forest in the midst of crumbling apartments and questionable marketplaces. It's surrounded on all sides, from what he can tell, by an ancient, rusted barbed-wire fence, bent in most places at the hands of drug-dealing kids and shrubs that tower over the top, and completely collapsed in others. Weeds have taken over the grass, spilling out onto the sidewalk and forcing their way up through the concrete cracks, and the it's almost impossible to see anything inside other than the thick tops of rain-weighted trees. As he passes, he sees a flash of color through the dim haze of the storm, and decides to move faster. This is the kind of place where, shielded from the streets, bad things happen.

Suddenly, the fence shakes, and he almost (almost but not quite) jumps.

"Zoro!"

He freezes, nearly tripping over an uneven patch in the sidewalk, and there he is. Pressed up against the metal and having somehow halfway to the top, the _kid_ is staring at him with wide eyes and that same stupid grin.

"What the fuck?"

Instead of replying, Luffy just laughs. Like him, the kid is wearing nothing more than a pair of ragged jeans a sweatshirt sporting a bulge the perfect outline of a camera pressed against the fabric, but he doesn't have his hood up, leaving his dark hair drenched and dripping, tangled with leaves and grass.

They stare at each other for an eternity, one too shocked to move and the other not having had a plan in the first place, until eventually the monkey (because that's what he looks like, he thinks—backed up against the green and gripping on the fence with his hands and feet, he gives off the kind of carefree, reckless vibe a primate in the wild might) speaks up. "I can't believe it's you!" he says, giggling again.

Against his better judgment, the other man shakes his head. He doesn't care—he _really doesn't_ —because what that kid does it his business and has nothing to do with him. But for some reason, the universe keeps shoving together, putting them in the same place at the same time for no real reason than (probably) to torture him. But he's here now, and he's confused, and he's honestly a little curious. "Why are you in there?"

"'Cause I slept here."

"What?"

"I said _'cause I slept here_ ," the kid says, frowning at him and speaking slow like he's too stupid to understand such a simple statement. Like it's the most reasonable answer in the world, and he doesn't _get_ why he's thrown off by it.

"You spent the night... in there?" he replies, just as drawn out, double-checking that he'd heard right. Luffy nods. " _Why_?"

The kid just shrugs. "'Cause I felt like it."

"Jesus."

Luffy laughs again, grinning wide, and he sighs—because what else can he do? And then, suddenly, the kid is climbing to the top of the fence and leaping off, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he lands deftly on the sidewalk. "Where are _you_ going?"

He grunts, and for a moment considers just walking away. But something about this—about their third meeting by chance, about the fact that they've somehow found each other again in this huge city—pushes him to respond. "Walking around." It's not a lie.

"Sounds fun! I'll come with you!"

And he does.

 


End file.
